Blood's Embrace
by abesgoldenfriend
Summary: A French artist and a Italian vampire meet up in a bar. They leave together. First part of my au Hunt the Darkness.


To say that François Bonnefoy was ugly was to say that the sky was a bright shade of green and bears gave birth to unicorns. It just wasn't done, and on the rare occasion when someone did claim something so absurd they were given looks that silently suggested they should seek help, most likely in the form of a therapist.

But how far could beauty get you? If François was rich as he was beautiful then perhaps he could actually afford to spend money on both paints and food, so it wasn't exactly uncommon to find a hungry François finishing up a new painting.

Still, once in awhile you could find François wasting precious money on celebrating, usually after a good sale of one of his paintings. After such a thing happens it was common to find François in his favorite bar, flirting with whomever and sipping on the cheapest wine money could buy.

Tonight was a special night, and beside him sat a special young man drinking much more expensive wine than François, even if he didn't look like he could afford it. The man was shorter than him, and looked younger as well, with bright, enormous hazel eyes and olive skin. Nevertheless, he was beautiful, almost hauntingly so, though it was ruined by the grumpy expression he wore.

François had tried to talk to him, only for the response to come in two different languages: once in one that seemed similar to his own, different enough that the Frenchman had no idea what the other was saying, and the other time in English. François had tried to learn the language in school, and, with a nearly failing grade, he wouldn't say that he was a master of speech.

Still, François kept trying to talk to the miserable looking fellow, attempting to bring a smile to his face. He seemed rather keen on staying grumpy, though, and, through the night, his mood seemed to get worse and worse, all the while, the blond got drunker and drunker.

Giggling, he reached out to touch the grump, even if the hazel eyed man only pushed his hand away, before buying him another drink, something much more potent than wine.

Snatching up the drink, spilling just a bit, François giggled again, taking a sloppy sip of whatever he had been given, spilling some of it down his front, not that he noticed. "Buying me all these drinks, one might give the wrong impression," he purred out, swaying towards the bright eyed man. "Just-... Just what are you trying to do?" Giggling, he nearly slipped out of the barseat.

Of course the other man had no idea what François was saying, but his eyes went wide when he noticed that he was falling. Quickly, quicker than eyes could track, a cold hand was pressed against François chest, pushing him back up into his seat.

The blue eyed man barely noticed that he had nearly fallen to the ground, instead focusing on the arm pressed against his chest. Laughing, nearly falling over himself, he clung to the stranger, wrapping his arms around the brunet's.

It wasn't any surprise to François that not a second later lips of an olive color were pressed against his own, even as drunk as he was he understood where this could be leading, but what surprised him was how… emotionless it was. The kiss lacked any passion or emotion, and the other man was too tense for the kiss to actually be enjoyable. It was almost like he was forcing himself to kiss François.

Now to be either concerned or insulted…

Deciding to go with concerned, François pulled away, giving the brunet a fake pout, draping himself over the foreigner a second later. "Are you alright? A cute person like you shouldn't be so tense~"

Of course language was lost between them, and despite François attempts the other man didn't even crack a smile. If anything he looked… guilty, a fact that was lost on François.

Another kiss was pressed, better this time, causing François to smirk, glad that it was no longer like trying to kiss a statue.

It wasn't fifteen minutes later that François was being lead out of the bar, laughing as he followed behind the brunet. He was led to a hotel, his drunken state making it very difficult to actually focus. The door was opened, closed, and he was pressed up against it, three cold mouths on his skin, pleasuring him.

"You promised." That statement came with pair of crossed arms and cold shoulders, but Antonio barely paid Lovino a glance. He was too busy studying a text he had received on his phone. "Laura was supposed to be the last one."

Laura was a pretty woman that they encountered on their way to France, with green eyes like Antonio's, but with dark blonde hair. She stood out in a crowd, they all did as that was how Antonio chose them.

She had only glanced up once since Antonio Embraced the Frenchman. The three of them had taken their fill, and while Lovino and Lauras' backs were turned Antonio drained him, offering his own damned blood to replace it. It was she that had pointed out the Frenchman to their sire, her fault that said sire changed him.

Lovino watched the Frenchman, his own guilt eating him alive. He had his own part in this after all. He was the lure, and Antonio was the hook. The same thing had happened with Laura, and after that Antonio had to comfort a tearful and guilt ridden Lovino, which is when he made his promise.

He hadn't even lasted a year without changing someone else.

Though in all honesty the Frenchman didn't look any worse for the wear. Maybe it was the alcohol, but he was fast asleep on one of the beds, free to roll and turn. Lovino had stayed tied up to a bed for nearly a week after he was turned, and even Laura spent some time in handcuffs.

Was it foolishness? Or did Antonio just think that they would help him keep the Frenchman in bed? Or was he too busy playing his damned phone games to even care?

"We're leaving tomorrow."

Lovino and Laura both turned to their sire, falling quiet. Antonio was smiling, but both had seen him angry enough times to know this smile very well. It was the same smile he gave before killing that hunter the other day, the one that dared try and hurt his family.

It was a few minutes of silence before either of them spoke, and as usual it was Lovino. "Are you at least going to tell us where we're going? Or maybe you should have given us time to get some documents? You know what happened the last time-"

Antonio stood up, and Lovino fell silent immediately. The air was tense as Antonio walked over to Lovino, who stiffened a bit more with every footfall. He knew he shouldn't have talked back, but this idiot was going to get them killed, not that he minded too much, but Laura-

A hand was pressed against his cheek, a kiss against his forehead, and as much as Lovnio hated himself for it he relaxed into it. "I'm sorry," was whispered against his forehead. "I know I promised, but it was for a friend. We're going to America tomorrow, to visit a friend of mine. Do you remember me ever talking about Calatio?" There was a small nod from Lovino, a confused look from Laura, and Antonio continued. "I know it's too sudden, but she needs us there now. For support. Do you trust me?"

 _No._ "Sì."

Antonio grinned, pressing another tender kiss to his forehead. "Mi vida, thank you. Why don't you two go to bed? It's been a long day. I'll take first watch." A quick peck to his lips, a smile at Laura, and Antonio was already next to the door, waiting until it was their turn to watch.

Ignoring the feelings writhing in his stomach Lovino laid down on the bed. Even hours later he could hear Laura whispering apologizes to the sleeping Frenchman.


End file.
